Prelude
by Anonymous033
Summary: "All he's thinking is that if she doesn't make it, he won't, either." Ziva gets hit by a car. One-shot, taking place nearer to the end of Season 10. Tiva.


**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS.**

**Spoilers: 10x11 "Shabbat Shalom" and 10x12 "Shiva," major 7x01 "Truth or Consequences."**

**This fic was inspired by an idea of Anne's on Tumblr (Anne, you're gonna have to give me the link, I tossed it and I don't know where it is). She really wanted Ziva to get hit by a car, so she _persuaded_ (read: forced through the use of puppydog eyes and the guilt card where she's written fics for me) me to write this fic. It's a little different from the style in which I usually write, so I hope you like it—Tony and Ziva are sure hard to get in character here!**

**Enjoy!**

**-_Soph_**

* * *

**Prelude**

He doesn't know why it happens.

He can only blame the recent death of her father for her lack of awareness of her surroundings, but she steps off the kerb and the next thing he knows, he's hearing screeching tyres.

"Ziva!" he shouts, and she turns back as people are wont to do when their name's been called.

And then it's too late, because the last thing he sees before she goes flying up, up, up in slow motion is her face.

* * *

She lands ungracefully behind the car.

He runs to her as the vehicle speeds off, and through his peripheral vision he sees Gibbs and McGee go after it, but he's not concerned about that.

Her eyes are closed. Her breathing is shallow.

But _thank God she's breathing _because she flew over a freaking _car _and oh, her face is so scratched up that he can't even recognize her.

He pulls out his cell phone and renders himself vaguely aware of what he's saying to the 911 operator who promises to despatch an ambulance, but all he's thinking is that if she doesn't make it, he won't, either.

* * *

He forces McGee to check the paramedics' identities through the Probie's handy little McGadgets (that might be taking paranoia to the highest level, but he's not going to ship her off to the bad guy's cronies so easily—he still doesn't know who hit her).

And then he jumps into the ambulance with her in case she needs a protection detail anyway (McAlmostAlwaysRight could always be wrong about the paramedics actually being _certified paramedics_), and they take off towards the hospital.

Look at that: They arrive safely.

* * *

He paces the hallways as she's sent into the Emergency Room.

There are some places where he's not allowed to go, no matter how much he wants to go.

An hour later, doctors emerge and tell the team that she has a concussion, a few broken ribs, and a new array of damaged skin tissue to go on top of the _old _array of damaged skin tissue, but that she emerged otherwise unscathed and that it's a miracle.

He'd put his money on betting that they don't know his girl survived three months of torture.

* * *

The doctors have patched her up, so she's transferred to a room with a bed and not much else, and he waits standing by her side for her anaesthesia to wear off.

It takes another hour, but he is ever-so-grateful to be able to be there when she opens her eyes blearily.

"Hi," he whispers with a smile, but then the team comes trampling in and the moment (that is a moment probably only on his side) is lost.

Everyone talks for two hours and visiting hours near an end, and he gets anxious that he will have no time to spend alone with his ninja. Eventually, though, the others take their leave, and he is left with ten minutes to just _be _with her.

* * *

"You worried me," he tells her.

He thinks (but isn't sure) she gives him a soft, lopsided smile.

"I am fine," she reassures him.

"Yeah, that's why Wonder Woman is lying in the hospital with a concussion and a couple broken ribs."

"And torn skin," she reminds him.

"I still think you're beautiful, y'know."

He doesn't know why he says that.

She closes her eyes and turns her head away.

"I am not invincible," she whispers out of the blue.

"I know."

"I don't want you to think that I am."

"I don't."

"That is not really true, is it?"

He doesn't know the answer—because if it _were _true, then why is he dragging his feet when it comes to telling her that he's in love with her?

* * *

"Seeing you lie there unconscious was the single most terrifying experience of my life."

"How so?"

"I didn't know if you would live … or even if you were _alive,_" he confesses.

"And now that I will?"

He pauses. "Then … I should probably tell you that I'm glad."

"Oh." She seems disappointed.

"You know me, David, I'm not one for big words."

"I know."

"But I still … can't live without you, if-… if that makes any difference at all."

This time, he is _positive _she smiles.

"It does."

* * *

"Stay," she tells him two weeks later.

She's been released from the hospital and he'd gone to pick her up, but now she's home and he's wandering around her apartment trying not to be too obvious about wanting to appreciate her homecoming a little longer.

He seems to fail.

"Stay," she repeats. "We could order takeout for lunch."

"You sure?" he asks.

"Yes." She approaches him carefully, hands clasped. "I am well now, and um … I would like to know if you still mean what you said two weeks ago."

"Yeah," he answers, surprised.

"Then … I was hoping you would not wait until I got hit by a car for a second time."

Maybe it's her hair-raising words or maybe it's the tone of her voice, but he finds himself moving towards her.

She blinks up at him through her eyelashes. His lips press to hers.

And to him, she's never been more beautiful.


End file.
